Celt. (Den of Mercenaries Book 2) by London Miller Page A

the way his lips twitched that made her curious. “Not exactly.”
    Kyrnon had one of the toy guns in his hand before she could respond, seeming to test the weight in his hands before holding it out in front of him, his gaze trained straight ahead.
    He looked effortless like that, as though it was second nature to him. That nagged at the back of her mind, especially since she knew some interesting people in Manhattan, but she ultimately chalked it up to men and their guns.
    Kyrnon looked ready to take out the spinning targets when he paused and looked to her. Holding his hand out, he beckoned her over, pressing the gun into her hands once she was close enough.
    “I don’t—”
    “It’s easy,” he said, cutting her off, his lips next to her ear. “You just aim…” His arms circled her, drawing her into the position he wanted, staying close. “… and pull the trigger.”
    His finger found hers on the trigger, and only once she inhaled did he pull it. It wasn’t nearly as intense as a real gun, Amber was sure, but she could still feel the kick as the small pellet ejected, speeding through the air and hitting the target dead center.
    He kissed her right where her jaw and throat met before stepping back, the hand he had at her waist lingering moments longer. “Easy.”
    Amber could feel the flush in her face, even the path his hand had taken as it slid off her.
    Yeah, there was nothing easy about Kyrnon Murphy.
    Focusing, she closed one eye, trying to see the small, spinning circles better. She waited until she thought she had one in sight before she aimed, took a breath, and fired.
    Missing the target entirely.
    “What’s this?” Kyrnon asked. “You’re supposed to be winning me a prize. I’m a hard man to please, darlin’. Do me proud.”
    Laughing, she aimed and shot again, barely grazing the metal, but did actually hit it. “This isn’t as easy as it looks.”
    “Fair enough. Let’s wager on it then.”
    Thinking back on the first shot he took, Amber scoffed. “I have no doubt that you can hit all of them.”
    “Of course,” he said, not even a little ashamed at his arrogance. “I’m betting on you , though.”
    Eyeing him as she turned the weapon over in her hands, she considered it. “And if I lose.”
    “I’ll take you home after we leave.”
    “And if I win?”
    He rubbed a hand over his beard, a smile kicking is lips up. “We haven’t discussed parameters, lovie. First thing’s first.”
    She waved him on. “Let me have them.”
    “You hit the next seven of eight.”
    Amber shook her head, knowing there was no possible way she could do that. “Five.”
    “Six.”
    “ Fine .” How could she possibly argue with him? “Now, tell me. What do I win?”
    His next words were low, guttural almost, spoken in a language she didn’t understand, but there was a heat to his gaze, one that made her feel terribly alive.
    Licking her lips, she asked, “What does that mean?”
    “Hit the next six and I’ll show you what it means.”
    If that wasn’t motivation, she didn’t know what was.
    Turning back, she aimed and hit the next three, but the one that followed missed by an inch.
    “That’s your one,” Kyrnon muttered, drifting closer. “Careful there, lovie. Wouldn’t want you to miss out.”
    That was easy for him to say. “Then stop distracting me.”
    He chuckled, but did remain silent as he waited for her to make the final shots. The next few came quite easier, and when she was finally on her last one, even when she felt him draw closer, she managed to hit the target.
    “Impressive,” Kyrnon said with a slight smile.
    “Still not enough for the bear,” Tony drawled beneath his breath, staring at them over top the magazine he was now reading. She had forgotten he was even there.
    Grabbing the other gun from the counter, Kyrnon barely faced the targets before he had every single one of them shot down in a matter of seconds. With a brow arched at Tony—as though the man was